The Lycan King’s Mark (Nevara) by Tiffanie L. Campbell novel Chapter 66

Chapter 66 – Warm Water, Cold Instinct

Nevara

The headache dulled to a throb once the tea settled, but the dizziness lingered–like the room was floating a half–inch behind my eyes. Tobias watched me too closely as I shifted on the couch, as if gauging how much of myself I still had.

“Let’s get you in the bath,” he said gently. “It’ll help.”

I nodded, because the idea of hot water sounded like relief. He disappeared into the bathroom, and a moment later the sound of rushing water filled the cabin. I followed slowly, one hand trailing along the wall for balance.

The bathroom was small but clean. Steam fogged the mirror. The tub was already half full, bubbles piling high with a faint medicinal scent–Epsom salts, he’d said.

“I need to pee,” I murmured, pausing by the toilet.

“Here,” he said immediately, stepping closer. “Let me help-”

“No,” I said, sharper than I meant to. “I’m pretty certain I can manage that.”

He hesitated, then smiled. “Okay. But I need to help you into the tub. You’re still disoriented. I don’t want you slipping.”

“I’ll be careful.”

I shut the door enough to give myself a sliver of privacy, used the toilet, then stood slowly. My legs trembled but held. When I turned back to the tub, Tobias was hovering in the doorway.

“You were supposed to wait,” he said, not angry–just… firm.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, gripping the edge of the tub. I stepped in carefully, testing the heat with my toes before lowering myself inch by inch. The water wrapped around me, warmth blooming through sore muscles. I exhaled.

He hovered for another second, then nodded. “All right. Let me help with your hair.”

I hesitated, then leaned back slightly. “Okay. I can’t see the cut.”

He knelt behind me, gentle as he worked shampoo into my hair, careful around the gash. His fingers were practiced, slow. I closed my eyes, letting the sensation anchor me. For a few minutes, it was almost soothing.

Then he picked up a loofah.

The first pass across my shoulders was harmless. My back. Down my arms. Normal. Efficient. But when the loofah brushed the side of my chest–barely there, a graze–I felt something.

Not pain. Not pleasure.

< Chapter 66 – Warm Water, Cold Instinct

Just wrong.

A tight, skittering unease, like my skin had flinched before my mind caught up.

I stayed quiet. He didn’t linger. Maybe it was nothing.

Claim

The loofah moved lower again, tracing my ribs. When it dipped toward my stomach, my pulse kicked hard.

I reached up and caught his wrist.

“I’m pretty sure I can take it from here,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

He froze for half a breath. Then he smiled softly and released the loofah into my hand. “Of course, my

love.”

He stood. “I’ll start breakfast. Call if you need help getting out.”

The door closed.

I sank deeper into the water, bubbles slipping over my shoulders, and tried to slow my breathing. Why did

that feel wrong? I told myself. He’s my husband. The thought didn’t settle anything.

After a few minutes, the heat loosened my muscles enough that the room stopped spinning. I rested my head against the tub and let the quiet stretch–just the crackle of the fire beyond the door and the faint

clink of dishes in the kitchenette.

When he came back, I was reluctant but honest. “I’ll need help getting out.”

“Of course,” he said.

He steadied me as I stood, wrapped a towel around my shoulders, then another around my waist. My legs

wobbled, and I leaned into the counter to keep from tipping. He crouched to dry my calves, methodical.

When he shifted closer, he said, “Spread your legs a bit. I don’t want you slipping.”

I obeyed because my balance felt fragile.

He pressed the towel gently between my thighs, cupping to dry–quick, efficient, not lingering. Still, my stomach tightened. He moved on immediately, up my hips, my sides, my arms.

Why am I uncomfortable? I asked myself. This should be normal.

I reached for the towel instinctively, wanting to cover myself, but he was already stepping back.

“There,” he said. “All dry.”

He helped me into soft pajamas–button–up top, loose bottoms. He fastened the buttons carefully, one by one, his knuckles brushing my skin.

“What about panties?” I asked, because the question surfaced before I could stop it.

He chuckled. “You never wear panties. There aren’t any here.”

“Oh,” I said. The word felt borrowed. “Okay then.”

< Chapter 66 – Warm Water, Cold Instinct

“And no bra,” he added lightly. “You’re healing. Comfort first.”

Cla

He guided me back toward the couch, his hand steady at my elbow. I sat, pulling the pajama top closed with both hands, suddenly aware of how much skin felt like too much.

Breakfast sizzled in the pan. The cabin smelled like coffee and eggs and woodsmoke. Normal things. S things.

And yet, beneath it all, a whisper of something sour lingered.

I watched him move around the kitchenette–confident, at ease, exactly where he wanted to be–and fe the strangest pull inside my chest.

Not toward him.

Away.

I told myself it was the head injury. The fog. The missing pieces.

Still, when he turned and smiled at me, I folded my arms tighter around myself and wondered why my instincts were whispering cover up when my memories insisted I didn’t need to.

He finished cooking in a rhythm that suggested he’d done it a hundred times–eggs in one pan, bacon sizzling beside it, toast popping from the small plug–in toaster balanced on the counter.

I moved to the table, muscles sore and heavy beneath the thin pajamas, watching him like a stranger I w supposed to know. When he finally turned with two plates and set one in front of me, the smell hit hard-

buttery, rich, familiar in a way I couldn’t name.

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